


Those Damned Specimens

by irinokat



Series: Fun with Kaiju [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Other, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann gets a little more than he predicted in trying to clean up Newt's side of the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Damned Specimens

Everything always went downhill when Newt forgot to clean up properly.

Hermann sighed as he entered the lab to see Otachi’s tongue sitting haphazardly on a prep table but no one else in sight. He wondered for a moment how Newt had managed to procure such a rare, valuable item relatively intact, especially after Beckett and Mori had ripped it out and flung it halfway across Hong Kong, not caring for research while stopping it from eating the researcher. Must be something to do with the black market dealer his lab partner was so obsessed with these days.

“Newton?” Hermann called. He received no answer. “Newton? Blast it, where are you?” Hermann was surprised the other man would leave something this precious lying around, about to fall off the table. Maybe Chau’s men had moved it in and Newt didn’t know it was here yet? But no, all of Chau’s other products had been carefully preserved and bottled. What had called Newt’s attention away?

And why was the damn thing so precariously leaning off the table? “You’d think you would take better care of your specimens,” Hermann said, as much to himself as to his missing partner. He sighed and picked up a pair of clean-looking forceps from one of Newt’s many disorganized tool trays. It wouldn’t do to have Newt come in and scream because the tongue had fallen and gotten dirty or bruised.

Hermann gingerly clamped the forceps around the thinnest part of the tongue he could manage, unsure how much force the tissue could take. He’d absorbed quite a bit of knowledge about the kaiju over the years from being forced to listen to Newt’s mania-driven raving about them, but this was an entirely new appendage – who really knew what would hurt it?

He flinched as the muscle in the tongue twitched, sending a shock up his arm. Muscle response this late after the creature’s death? Was this normal? He waited a moment, annoyed at himself for being nervous, and tried to push it back up right, onto the table. He jerked away, dropping the forceps, as end of the single appendage suddenly split into several smaller tendrils, all wiggling and moving of their own accord.

“Newton?!” Hermann called, frightened. What on earth was going on? Was this some bizarre experiment Newt was working on? Had he somehow reanimated it? Had it managed to come back to life? Herman gave a nervous chuckle at that thought, it seemed so ridiculous. Then again, twelve years ago, kaiju had seemed ridiculous, too. Who knew what they were truly capable of?

Newt did, and he was not here. Hermann turned and walked towards the door, hoping he wouldn’t have to search the entire Shatterdome for the other man. The steady tap of his cane against the floor did not mask the strange slippery noises of the tongue tendrils undulating behind him.

He was reaching for the doorknob when he felt something touch his shoulder.

He looked back and wished he hadn’t. One of the tentacles from the tongue had managed to reach across the room and was feeling up his sweater vest. He smacked it away and reached for the door again. This time it wrapped around his chest and yanked him back. He fell to the floor, cane clattering away. He scrambled for it, but the tentacle dragged him back towards the table before he could reach it.

Damn Newt’s specimen, this was ridiculous! Hermann kicked at it with his good leg when it brought him close enough, managing to tip it completely off the table. Instead of stopping it, though, the move annoyed it, or at least that seemed to be the case from the way it twitched and rocked around more quickly as it flopped onto the floor. Hermann let out a yelp as the tendril around him twisted and flung him up into the air, over the table.

The tongue by itself was too weak to hold him there for long; it let him down onto the table, but kept holding him as he struggled under its grip. It had constricted enough to make him wonder if it could crack a rib before he gave up, panting hard, letting it grip him tight. He kicked out again when he felt another tendril on his ankle, slipping under his pants, but the crushing weight around his ribs convinced him not to fight too hard.

He hoped his colleague would be back soon and would have some idea of what to do as he felt the tendril snake its way up his bad leg. He flushed as it moved slowly, carefully over the scars on his hip, then winced as he heard his pants rip. Perhaps it would be alright if Newt didn’t see him in this state. When it had finished examining his leg – and massaging it, Hermann noticed, his leg didn’t feel as stiff as it had before – it slid even further upward, under his still tucked-in oxford. He flinched and tried to sit up as it completely ripped through his pant leg and roamed over his stomach, feeling knots twist in his abdomen as it brushed flesh that hadn’t been touched by anyone else in a long time. Surprisingly, the tendril around his chest loosened, but he was disappointed to find that it was replaced by two thinner tendrils wrapping around his arms as the thicker tentacle pulled away. The tendril under his shirt continued its leisurely way upwards, tangling itself around his back and brushing up and down his sides on occasion. He shuddered as its tip slid over his spine.

One of the tendrils holding his arms in place brushed against his hip. He jerked up, suddenly realizing that all of this commotion was causing him to get a bit too excited in areas that made him uncomfortable, a thought that made him feel just a little bit sick. Please say this was not how Newt felt every time he started examining a new specimen, he found himself thinking. Please say this was just a strange, one-time fluke and Newt didn’t –

It was wrapping around his neck. He didn’t care what it was going to do to him, he tried as hard as he could to reach for it and pull it away. Being strangled was a horrifying way to die, especially in a situation as compromising as this. The tentacles around his arms barely let him budge. To his relief, the tentacle didn’t fully wrap around his neck, but instead slid under the back of his neck and came back up next to his ear, tip sliding across his cheek. He closed his eyes and felt it work its way over his face, figuring out his anatomy. It was observing. Perhaps it would be finished soon, and he could put it back on the table and be on his way before anyone was the wiser.

He choked a little as another tendril snaked its way up his good leg, much less gentle than its predecessor. It split the leg of his pants as it drove its way upward, exposing both his legs to the cold air of the lab as the material fell away. At first this one just rubbed his too-skinny hips, making him stiffen even more uncomfortably. Then it slid down, inside Hermann’s briefs.

He opened his mouth and moaned, partly from frustration, partly from arousal, as the tentacle slid around his already hard cock. A little hiss escaped him as he felt it run up and down his length, tangling in what it could of his admittedly short supply of pubic hair. He was about to make another noise when the tentacle probing his face slid down into his mouth.

Disgusted, Hermann tried to spit it out, but the tentacle was having none of it. He bit down, hoping to show it that he was not to be trifled with, but that did more to rattle his own teeth than to unsettle the creature. He finally let go of it as it slid deeper inside and wriggled around a bit, feeling everything it could. He felt it run over every surface of his teeth and cheeks, slide under his tongue, then push its way back to his throat. He felt uncomfortably full, and the feeling brought back awkward memories of the first few times he had tried to pleasure his exes. 

Speaking of which, that other tentacle was still rubbing his cock. He winced and tried to sit up again as it rubbed him, but the tongue was having none of it. Both the tentacles around his arms and the tendril in his mouth pushed him down, sticking him to the table. The way the tendril in his mouth twisted and pushed resulted in his favorite oxford ripping. He sighed heavily, accidentally drawing the tentacle further in, and vowed to go find some new clothes when this ordeal was over. It had been a while since he had spent money on something as futile as fashion.

His attempts to ignore the tentacles working at him dissolved away as they kept working him, one rubbing his shaft up and down, slowly, leisurely, and the other sliding in and out of his mouth. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the tongue was actively fucking him, but there was no way that could be right. Right? The only reason it would understand human anatomy and any equivalent of human sexuality were probably Newt’s fault from the drift. And, well, his. He had helped with the drift, after all. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to the deluge of visions and memories that he had been so carefully locking away in his psyche since the drift; the way Newt looked at him, the intense bonding and oneness of the hivemind, his own affection for Newt, Newt’s bizarre lust for the creatures, the kaiju discovering that the ants beneath their feet had names and voices and anatomies and personalities.

His breath hitched. He vaguely realized that the drift was the reason for all this as he helplessly bucked his hips upward, beginning to really enjoy the feel of the rubbery tendril surrounding his cock in spite of himself. The drift had made them realize that humans were even smarter than they’d thought. The drift had taught them something of how an individual human mind felt, and what feelings like love and desire were, and now that it had been given a taste, the kaiju hivemind was – was –

He lost the ability to concentrate as the tentacle in his mouth sped up, fucking his mouth the way his ex from grad school had when he was younger. He winced and moaned, thrusting his hips again as the tentacles kept working him. It wasn’t much longer before he’d completely lost himself to the pleasure surging through his body, bucking and twisting under the rubbery tendril stroking his cock, gripping the edges of the table with all his remaining strength. For the first time in a while, Hermann came, back arched, propping himself up on his arms. The tentacle in his mouth let go as he moaned his way through his release, much more vocal than he could ever imagine himself being. Perhaps that was Newt’s contribution to his mind after the drift, after this godforsaken mistake of a fuckf. It was the last coherent thought he had before he finished and, exhausted, passed out.

 

Newt stopped in his tracks as he let the lab door slam behind him as usual. He stared at the table where he’d left Otachi’s tongue. Hermann was lying there in a stupor, breathing hard, with the tongue on the floor. Newt rushed over to the table, his face turning bright red when he realized that Hermann’s pants were ripped and the rest of his clothes disheveled. “What the hell, man?” Newt asked as he shook Hermann’s shoulder, trying to wake him up.

Herman blinked a few times, opened his eyes to see Newt, and turned away, wincing. Newt grabbed his shoulder and helped him sit up, pulling him to the edge of the table. He blinked in surprise as his partner slapped him on the back of the head. “What was that for?!”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you are doing with your… with your specimens,” Hermann growled, “but I would appreciate it if you’d take care of them yourself.”

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Newt asked as Hermann slid off the table, both of his legs seeming a bit too wobbly. He glanced around for the man’s cane and spotted it near the door. Confused, he stepped backwards to get it.

“I found this – this thing falling off the table, and then –” Hermann visibly winced, whole body shuddering. Newt brought him his cane; it wasn’t much, but it was at least something to lean on. “And then...” He trailed off, lost in thought.

“Okay, okay, I’ll pack up better next time I grab a nap, okay?”

Hermann fixed him with a dark look. “You had better. You don’t want to know what happens when you don’t.” He stalked off, Newt staring after him. In the seriousness of the moment, Newt couldn’t stop to tell him how ridiculous he looked, stumbling along even worse than usual, holding up his pants with one hand. Newt wondered what on earth could have happened before turning back to the tongue, trying to figure out how to lift it by himself back onto the table.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one as much as the last. ;) Critique and thoughts always appreciated.


End file.
